


Oh, to be young again

by Pokegeek151



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, And I have made peace with that, And that's what you missed on Glee, Apparently that's a tag, Autistic Peter Parker, Back to the Future References, Because IW can suck my metaphorical dick, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bisexual Tony Stark, But them's the breaks I suppose, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I don't know how many people will care about this except for the Irondad server people, I like that that's a tag already, I might edit the chapter after it goes up because it's getting late and I just want this to Exist, I wish I could reorder the tags after typing them, I wish I had more rep in chapter one but it will be there I promise, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Irondad, Kid Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Tony Stark Coparenting Peter Parker, No dead May Parker, Not Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Compliant, Not sure if this counts but just in case, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, The story no one asked for but I will be writing anyway, Those will be relevant eventually, Time Travel, Trans Peter Parker, Young Tony Stark, including more characters probably, probably no one
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-26
Updated: 2019-05-26
Packaged: 2020-03-17 15:56:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18968488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pokegeek151/pseuds/Pokegeek151
Summary: Anthony Stark is ready to do anything to get away from Howard's plans for his future. It takes the whole summer before his freshman year at MIT, but he manages to escape to 2018.  The rest is (uncharted) history.





	Oh, to be young again

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lanada](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lanada/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Déjà vu](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17311082) by [itsallAvengers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/itsallAvengers/pseuds/itsallAvengers). 



> For Glitch, whose unwavering dedication convinced me to actually put metaphorical pen to digital paper. Thank you for actively caring about this thing.

Anthony Stark had approximately three months until he was going to be shipped off to Boston for college, and he was determined to not be around for that. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to go to college; he was actually excited to finally be in an environment that stimulated him mentally. But his father had picked MIT, and Tony refused to go along with his plans without a fight. For the entire summer of ‘85, he lived out of the garage-turned-lab, working on average twenty hours a day on his last-ditch attempt to escape from Howard as permanently as possible.

 

That summer, Stark Industries kept Howard particularly busy. He was at work 90% of the time and too tired to deal with Anthony the other 10%, a fact that Tony was happy to take advantage of. Howard’s absence meant less hiding in his room, and he was able to really stretch out in the garage without the constant traffic in and out.

 

Once, he managed to sneak his way into the SI headquarters and take some of the parts he’d needed. He got caught by a Mr. Clark or Cameron or Carlson or something along those lines, a forgettable man who worked with Howard and never liked Tony much. Tony told him to piss off and left with the materials he had collected from the warehouse. His father never said anything to Anthony about it later, so he just assumed the man had been bluffing when he threatened to rat him out to his father. He didn’t blame him for keeping quiet, though. A nothing sort of man like Mr. C wouldn’t be able to stand Howard’s rage if the man found out what had happened.

 

Perhaps he’d been inspired by the big summer blockbuster of that year because in a fevered, almost manic state, Anthony Stark built what he hoped would be a time machine. He had no idea what time it would take him to, or if he’d even survive the trip. He was too impatient to test it for safety, and though he wouldn’t admit it if anyone asked, he didn’t really care. At this point, anything was better than staying and catering to Howard’s whim. And so, with about two hours of sleep in the past three days, seven cups of coffee that morning, and no expectations of what would happen except for something  _ different _ , he turned on his invention. His vision was flooded with green light and he felt his atoms being ripped apart and put back together again. As the green faded, he saw what seemed like New York City’s skyline outlined by blue, which meant results because he had been indoors. The relief that  _ something _ had happened washed over him, and he collapsed on the grass of Central Park.

 

><><><><

 

When Anthony woke up, he was inside what seemed to be a hospital room. There were several beds, though he was the only one in the room at the moment. The lights were dim and the only sounds were the quiet, regular beeping of a heart monitor and the faint whir of an air unit. He sat up slowly, gratefully noting that he wasn’t in much pain anymore. Just some dull aches all over. He was alone with his thoughts for only a few moments before the door opened and someone he didn’t recognize walked in. The stranger was a boy who looked to be around his age, taller than him and with a mop of brown curls. The boy jumped a bit when he spotted Tony sitting up in bed, though his expression quickly settled into a smile.

 

“You’re awake!” he said, reaching for the dimmer wheel to turn the lights up a bit.

 

“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Anthony replied.

 

“Hey, no need to be rude.” The boy walked over and sat on the bed next to Anthony’s. He rested his elbows on his legs and his chin in his hands, watching Anthony like he was a fascinating scientific specimen. It was almost unnerving, and the beeping of the heart monitor picked up its pace. 

 

“Do you want me to turn that off?” he asked as Anthony glanced over at the display.

 

Waking up in a mysterious hospital did quite a number on his self-esteem. He already hated feeling useless, and this situation certainly wasn’t helping “I can do it,” he said, and with a bit more force than strictly necessary, he followed the wire to an electrode on his chest and tore it away from his skin. The steady beeping abruptly shifted to a droning whine, and they both winced. Anthony rubbed lightly at the now tender skin as the other boy instinctively covered his ears for a moment before moving to unplug the machine.

 

A few seconds later, the door burst open again, this time revealing a panicking adult man. “Peter! He flatlined, what happened?”

 

The boy, Peter, glanced over his shoulder at the newcomer. “He’s fine. He took off the monitor, is all. You’re okay, right?”

 

Anthony wasn’t listening, though. He had gone stiff as soon as he saw the man who had entered. He couldn’t help but stare. His hair was cut fairly close to his head, and he had a neatly shaped beard and mustache, but the structure of his face was unmistakable. Anthony recognized the cut of his jaw and the shape of his eyes, and a distant part of him was grateful that there was no longer a heart monitor attached to him to register his racing pulse.

 

“You… Are you Tony Stark?” he asked, trying to sound relaxed.

 

“You know I am,” the man said, narrowing his eyes. He already knew. Of course he already knew. He hadn’t expected any less.

 

“Great. Just the man I wanted to see.” His eyes betrayed the tension he felt. He inhaled deeply and took a leap of faith. “My name’s Tony Stark, and I need your help.”

 

For a moment, none of them said anything. The younger Tony thought he might scream just to break the oppressive silence before Peter spoke.

 

“Mr. Stark, you were right,” he whispered.

 

That seemed to break the spell. The adult Tony nodded to himself and sat down beside Peter. “Of course I was. Alright, McFly. What exactly is your deal?”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” the younger one replied. “And do we have to do this here? I feel ridiculous,” he added, gesturing the to hospital bed he was still sitting in.

 

“Yes, we do. Where are you from?”

 

“Manhattan,” he answered. “Same as you.” He had a thought, then, that perhaps he was talking to a completely different Tony Stark who wasn’t necessarily from his direct future. “Right?”

 

“Yeah. That’s right. When are you from? How’d you even get here?”

 

“1985, and, uh…” He hesitated a moment before continuing. Just because he was talking to a future version of himself didn’t mean he could trust that easily. “I don’t remember.”

 

“You don’t remember?” the older Tony parroted incredulously. “What do you mean?”

 

Anthony flinched at the slight raise in the older man’s voice. “I mean what I said! Lay off, will ya?”

 

Tony started to say more, but Peter put a hand on his arm to stop him. “Give him a break. He’s had a hard day.” He turned to face Anthony. “What’s the last thing you do remember?”

 

Peter’s calmer tone seemed to put him at ease a bit. “I was working in my lab at home--”

 

“I didn’t have my own lab at fifteen.”

 

“Fine, the garage. Whatever,” he continued, rolling his eyes. “Something exploded and knocked me out. I woke up to an interrogation. How long was I out?”

 

“I can’t believe I used to be this insufferable,” Tony groaned, glaring at the ceiling.

 

“Just a few hours,” Peter said. He turned to the older Tony. “Why don’t you get Dr. Banner?” he suggested. “Now that Mr--that Tony’s--now that he’s awake, we can get him the all clear.”

 

Even the younger Tony could see that it was an obvious ploy to get the man out of the room, though he was certainly grateful for the effort. Being insulted by himself from the future wasn’t really doing good things to his stress levels. He was pretty sure the adult version of him wouldn’t fall for the trick.

 

Nonetheless, to the younger’s surprise, the man stood up and ruffled Peter’s hair briefly. “Good idea, kid,” he said, giving the young version of himself one more glance before leaving the room.

 

Both teens were silent until the door closed with a faint click. “What’s your deal?” Anthony asked, unintentionally mirroring his adult self’s phrasing. “Who exactly are you?”

 

Peter blinked in surprise. He hadn’t been expecting to be questioned yet. “My name’s Peter. Parker.”

 

“What are you, my kid or something?”

 

He blushed brightly. “What? No! Well, uh, sort of? I mean, obviously not  _ your _ kid. But like, Mr. Stark’s kid. Kind of. Now, at least. I--”

 

“Simplify,” Anthony interrupted.

 

Peter took a few seconds to organize his thoughts. “As of recently, he’s my legal guardian, along with my Aunt May. I, uh, live here, now.”

 

“In the hospital?”

 

“We’re not--This isn’t a hospital. You’re in the medbay in St--in the tower.”

 

“Stark Tower?” Anthony guessed, quirking an amused eyebrow. This Peter kid was obviously terrible at keeping secrets, and he planned to use that to his advantage. First his relationship with the Tony from this time, and now the existence of a Stark Tower? He was practically an open book.

 

“Um, I can’t confirm that,” Peter mumbled. “We really shouldn’t talk about this. If you learn too much about this time, it could change your future, which is here, which means  _ here _ would change, which would lead to you knowing something different, then--”

 

“Hey, hey, I’m not going to cause a paradox,” he said, cutting off Peter’s rambling. “You ever heard of multiverse theory? It means every change made to the past creates a new timeline instead of changing the current one.”

 

“I know what it is. It’s just conjecture, though. We don’t know why, or how, you’re here. Mr. Stark just…wants to keep everyone safe.”

 

Anthony stiffened. “Does he not trust me? I’m literally him. He ought to know that I’m not here to steal his tech or whatever.” He chose to ignore the hypocrisy of his argument.

 

Peter was ready to come to the man’s defense when the door opened, revealing a stressed adult Tony. “Forgot Bruce isn’t here. Guess that means you’re stuck until he shows up.”

 

“That’s not fair!” the younger Stark shouted. “I’m fine! I don’t need to stay locked up in bed.”

 

“Well, I said you’re staying, so deal with it!”

 

Anthony flinched and dropped his head. His fists curled around the thin sheet that covered him and when he spoke, his voice was quiet and scared. “Sorry, sir.”

 

Tony froze. “No, no. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have yelled. Peter, go find a room for him. He--I’m sure he’s fine.” He ran a hand through his hair as his younger self glanced nervously up at him. “I didn’t--Sorry.” For a moment, he didn’t know what to do with himself. He clapped Peter on the shoulder before quickly making himself scarce.

 

The younger Tony managed to hold himself together until he heard the door close. He didn’t dare look up. Once the sound reached him, he felt himself shaking slightly.

 

“He just wants to keep you safe,” Peter said quietly.

 

“He’s n-not my dad,” the boy said, mostly to himself.

 

“I know, but--”

 

“Just… Let’s go.” He pushed the sheet away and stood up from the bed. He was dizzy for a moment from sitting for too long and the general misuse of his body for the past Lord-knows-how-long, but he recovered quickly and started walking to the door. He would have continued on, uncaring if Peter was following, but as soon as he stepped into the hallway, he realized he had no idea where he was going. Peter was quick to catch up, though, and he took the lead easily.

 

He hadn’t noticed it before, but Anthony quickly learned that Peter tended to ramble. “I guess we should get you a room first, huh? After that, I can give you a tour! I don’t think Mr. Stark would be mad. I think there’s an empty bedroom near mine, which would be great. It’ll be nice to have someone my age nearby for once. You’re, what, fifteen? Me, too. Oh, sorry, I shouldn’t just assume--we don’t know how long you’re here; you might not even need a room. Maybe it would be better if you took the other bunk in my room… What do you think? Would that work better? Or do you want space?”

 

“Uh, I guess my own room? I need to build a time machine or whatever from scratch, so it might be a while.”

 

Peter smiled brightly at him. “Alright, then. I can help with that. And I’m sure Mr. Stark will, too. Oh hey, do you go by any nicknames besides Tony?”

 

“No. Why?”

 

“Well, I call Mr. Stark ‘Mr. Stark,’ but everyone else calls him ‘Tony.’ And I’m pretty sure you aren’t going to want to hide in your room all the time, which means you’re going to meet people, who will have to call you something besides ‘Tony,’ because otherwise that would get way too confusing. It’s short for ‘Anthony,’ right? You can be ‘Anthony’ and Mr. Stark can be ‘Tony?’”

 

“Yeah, no. Not happening. Sounds too much like my dad.” He glanced over his shoulder briefly as he unconsciously hurried his pace to catch up to Peter, who had started to get ahead of him.

 

“Hmm, Starkling?”

 

Tony playfully shoved Peter further down the hall. “Gross, no!”

 

Peter grinned, turning to walk backwards. “Brad?”

 

“Where did that even come from?” he asked, allowing himself a laugh.

 

“How about Toby? Because you’re Tony B and he’s Tony A!”

 

“Nope. Rejected. And why can’t I be Tony A?”

 

“Because he’s older.” There was a silent ‘duh’ in his words.

 

“Ah, but since I’m from the past, wouldn’t that make me older?” he countered.

 

Peter waved his finger. “But you’re still only fifteen. And I met you second. Therefore, Toby.”

 

“Well, I’m still shutting that one down. Come on, you seem like a smart enough kid. Think of something better.” He tapped Peter’s arm with his fist.

 

“It’s your name. Why don’t  _ you _ think of something?”

 

“You’re the one getting confused. I can just say ‘Tony’ and ‘me’ and know who I’m talking about.”

 

Peter pulled open a door and gestured inside, still grinning at the discussion. “After you.” The younger Tony hadn’t even noticed how far they had walked until now.

 

He didn’t know what he had been expecting, but the bedroom Peter had led him to was…rather plain. There was no fancy futuristic aesthetic, no chrome or mysterious colored lights. It looked like a hotel bedroom, if he was honest. A nice, upscale hotel room, but still with that clean, untouched atmosphere.

 

“You don’t get many guests here, do you?” he asked, wandering in.

 

“People aren’t generally allowed on these floors. Everyone has their own rooms. Why do you ask?”

 

Tony dragged a finger over the top of the closest surface. There was a hint of dust on his skin, but at least someone had been keeping up with cleaning the room. “I just get that vibe from this room, you know? Like no one’s been in here in a long time.”

 

“I suppose not,” Peter answered. They had both spoken quietly without realizing, as if there was a certain tenuous sanctity in the room. 

 

Tony destroyed the sacredness of the atmosphere by getting a running start and launching his entire body onto the queen size bed, causing Peter to laugh from the doorway.

 

“Well, welcome to your new room,” he said. “We can get some posters or whatever later. Spice it up a bit.”

 

Tony lifted himself onto his elbows. “Thanks, Peter. This is…not as bad as I was expecting.”

 

“No problem! Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be down the hall. You’ll, uh, probably be able to figure out which room is mine.” Peter turned to leave but paused, his hand still on the door frame. “What about ‘Anton?’”

 

“That makes me sound like some fourteenth century lord or something,” he said, though his tone didn’t have the same bite to it as before. After a moment of contemplation, he added, “It’s not the worst, though.” He shrugged as nonchalantly as he could manage when Peter beamed at him.

 

“‘Anton’ it is, then,” he said. “I’ll come by in a bit. We can order pizza or something.”

 

“Yeah. Sounds good.” He dropped his face back into the mattress to hide his unconscious smile.

**Author's Note:**

> Look at me actually publishing something that isn't a one shot. How exciting
> 
> For the sake of honesty and open communication, I will warn you now: don't expect regular updates. I actually have a job this summer (yay!) _and_ I'm ASMing a production for my community theater. And also I am bad at making myself write. That's a thing. I promise this isn't dead, though, no matter when you read this note. It might become comatose, but I will not be pulling the plug for a long while. Subscribe to make sure you don't miss the rare, momentous occasion that is an update.


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